


Learning to Fly

by ninamazing



Category: Firefly, R. Tam Sessions, Serenity (2005), Serenity (Comics)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-26
Updated: 2006-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-22 12:24:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninamazing/pseuds/ninamazing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Mal was all at once more afraid than he'd ever been of anything or anyone, but he wanted to dance and laugh and he was pretty gorram sure he wouldn't even need booze to do it. He held her desperately, carefully, as if she might break; his every protective instict ballooned into one when he felt her against him and realized that this was the one serenity he needed to keep forever.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Leaving atmo was the first thing she did, and still her favorite. All the rumbling stopped as they left the air; molecules stopped rattling in chaos and gave way to nothing; the grav thrust was no longer needed.

"Two engines in a pipe and one is left," River told him, grinning, as she watched the view descend. Mal knew if he took the controls he'd jostle 'em something fierce and prove his ineptitude, so he just watched her hands. You know, _instructively_.

"That so, little one?" he ventured. "Do you, uh ... do you know how to turn this thing in space without the atmo engines?"

River gave him a patronizing, sardonic smile.

"Momentum, energy, and mass are conserved but never created," she told him, looking hard at the controls, knowing he was watching back in ill-concealed awe. The ship turned beautifully; a giant space protractor would have measured a perfect 90 degrees.

"You can bend them to your will," River added, and she cast Mal a glance out of the corners of her wide eyes.

"You are some kind of _tien cai_ , little one." No doubt about it--the girl could fly. The girl could do everything, in fact, and she knew it. Mal had never set much store by humility anyway.

"You don't like Simon," she said quietly, setting the ship's course and rising to face Mal. With her out of her seat and he in his, she was taller; Mal wondered if River had always looked this ... womanlike.

"You don't like Simon," River said again.

"He tends to irritate is all," Mal told her calmly, looking at her eyes this time. He could stare her out of whatever craziness this was. He was good at intimidation.

"That's not going to work for me," she declared, and headed off the bridge, almost dancing in that way of hers.

Mal stared after her for several long minutes. He thought first of all the addlepated comments she'd made, and how they made so frightening a sense to him he had to ignore them. He thought of Miranda, thought of Niska, thought of Early ... of all the disasters for him and his ship that she had started--and at the same time, prevented.

 

 _"... killed 'em," Kaylee finished._

 _And Mal swore he would never tell a soul how glad he was that this girl--this sweet, intelligent girl he understood perfectly, this angel who was far too young for slayin'--had helped to save his life._

 _"I'll be your bounty, Jubal Early."_

 _Suiting up to retrieve her though he was, Mal felt a pang of panicked sorrow--sympathy for Simon, he reckoned, unexpected, but there anyway. River caused confusion. But she had protected_ Serenity _when he had failed, and he needed her back on his ship._

 _He held a gun to her head and he cursed, again, the God who brought him to stand here and defend his own life by murdering an innocent and very incredible young woman. Afterward he hated himself so much for almost doing it that he almost wasted her brother._

 _Good man I am, he thought wryly that night in his bunk, and many nights after. Good man._

 

"Inara," he called softly when he reached her shuttle. "Kaylee told me we had somethin' to discuss."

She was wearing dark green today, and it made her smoothest of backs look lovelier than ever. As she turned to face him--for dramatic effect, Mal was certain--every shiny thing on her body sparkled.

"Mal, I'm not sure we can make this work again," she told him, regal and striking.

 _Make_ what _work? Was it working before?_ pressed against his lips, but he didn't say it. _We got nothin' much to speak of but a history of arrogance and hurt._

"You and I being on the ship again," she added. "I think we're just going to end up rehashing all of our earlier squabbles."

He waited. He'd almost known this was coming.

"For instance," she continued, perplexed that he'd let her speak so much, "we haven't had any rendezvous lasting longer than a day in several weeks.

"And I know that it's been difficult to get back on our feet, what with-- But my life needs to return to normal, Mal. I can't live in the past or -" she looked down with a grim smile - "the very uncertain future."

"I'd wager you're right," he answered. "Mayhap you'd be better off elsewhere."

Her eyes met his again, and hers were way beyond perplexity and well into total bewilderment. "Mal, I -"

"Like you said," he told her, "stayin' here won't change anything, will it?"

And she could find no better argument than that.

 

Long after the late-night tea-drinkers had dispersed, Mal sat alone by the ladder in his bunk. The hollow feeling he'd had since Inara first left was gone. Replacing it was the hollow feeling from ... well, everything else. Wash. Zoe. Book. Miranda. It no longer seemed enough to float around the universe collecting fleeting monies for dubious favors, living just because he could. Serenity had taken away his notions of purpose, but Miranda, it seemed, had given them back.

A long strand of dark hair was hanging from the top of the hatch.

"River?"

No answer. Mal climbed to the top rung and saw the sleeping body of the girl stretched out across the hallway. Mal smiled down at her without realizing it; this wouldn't be the first time River had chosen an odd place to doze. She looked, enchantingly, just was wild and predictable when she wasn't awake.

She would also very probably knock that able brain of hers into a cold steel bar if she stayed here. Mal wrapped one arm around her head, lifted her waist easily with the other, and had the sudden and very special urge not to take her back to her quarters but carry her down to his own bed. To kiss her forehead and her cheek and her nose, to pull the covers over her shoulders and watch her breathe in peace. To wait for her to wake up and recognize the man who cared for her. He wondered what she was like before her brain got meddled with, and if she could ever be calm like this when she was awake.

"Captain?"

Mal whirled-- _gently_ , he remembered just in time.

"Doctor."

"I - I was looking for River."

"Well, you found her."

"I ... guess I have." His tone was vaguely accusatory, but Mal figured he'd meant it that way.

"She fell asleep outside my door," Mal continued in a whisper. "You can, uh ... take her back."

Simon held his sister, thanked Mal, and walked away. For the first time, the captain thought that maybe he could see what Shepherd Book had meant, so many weeks ago, when he'd called the young man brave.


	2. Chapter 2

Kaylee ran her fingers along the outside of the steel chamber, smooth and strong. "Inside here is where the fuel burns up," she told her wide-eyed and willing pupil, who knelt beside her underneath the engine. "See, if we've got liquid fuel it takes up less space on the ship, but we've got to get air through the engine, so we burn it up to make some."

River nodded. "Combustion chamber. Propellants are a mixture of fuel and air."

Kaylee turned to her, grinning. "Okay, there, genius, any guess what happens when all that burning fuel touches this steel?"

"It doesn't, silly," River said at once, laughing. Kaylee smiled even more widely.

"Tell me what happens, then."

"Coolant gets pumped through a thin layer on the outside," River recited, looking at the ceiling, growing serious. "Supercooled. Can't have the nozzle melting." She looked at Kaylee. "Steel deals terribly with heat."

Kaylee kissed the top of her head. "Could prolly teach yourself this, y'know, just by lookin'."

River grinned. "But I like your voice."

"River?"

"Under here, Simon." River giggled, and Kaylee slid under the combustor as if to hide.

Simon gazed down at the two women, smiling wryly. "Is Kaylee going to lose faith in herself the way Mr. Trotter did?"

"Nope," came Kaylee's muffled voice. "Who's Mr. Trotter?"

"He managed our family's cortex network," Simon replied. "After River convinced him that she could tear down his firewall with two keystrokes and hack into his own protected folder, he quit and told us we didn't need to be paying him anyway."

"Insecure administrative passwords are a liability," River muttered, and then, almost inaudibly: "Plus he was storing porn on my hard drive."

Simon sat next to them, drawing his hands up to his knees; Kaylee rolled over to snuggle between his legs, and he hugged her shoulders.

"Didja keep it? The naughties, I mean?" Kaylee asked, winking at Simon, who looked as though he was trying very hard not to have a facial expression.

"I can do better in my head," River told her matter-of-factly, and Simon hid a grin, pale though he was at this news.

"River, have you ever had a beau?" asked Kaylee, a mischevious smile spreading. Simon glanced at her, alarmed, but she didn't notice. River caught the smile, and shook her head.  
'  
"Boys are dumb," she announced. Simon looked amused, offended, but mostly relieved.

"I like _men_ ," she continued, and Simon gulped and excused himself. Kaylee looked after him for a second, but continued her third degree.

"Which men, then, _mei-mei_? And don't be like 'Nara -- tell me somethin' good."

River smirked. "Nothing good to tell. Can't make the good ones like me."

"Your brother loves you, and he ain't an easy one," Kaylee joked, but River only rolled her eyes.

"Bored now," she said. "I'm a girl too."

"But River, don't you -- ain't you got a reader's mind? Can't you sort of -- well, see what they want?"

"Not that simple," River told the mechanic, "but I can hear what they think of me. You think I like _Jayne_."

Kaylee flushed. "I didn't," she protested. "That was a stray one. My mind ain't always biddable."

River gave her a famously sarcastic look.

"I'm _sorry_ ," said Kaylee, "but it's only interesting if it's someone on the ship. I'll stop romancin' if you like." She stood up. "I'll save that for your brother."

River screwed up her face again, this time in disgust.

"I'm _sorry_ ," Kaylee repeated, backing out of the room. She still couldn't keep back her smile, though. Simon wasn't quite ready for River to be eighteen. Kaylee was ready for anything from anyone.

"It is someone on the ship," River said quietly.

"Did you say somethin', doll?"

"It _is_."

Kaylee crept closer to hear her whispers. "Someone here's been thinkin' on you that way?" She waited. "It _isn't_ Jayne, is it?"

River grinned. "Cap'n Tightpants," she confided. "I've been cropping up in dreams. I have a recurring cameo."

"River, he won't -- he's not the type of man to force you or --"

River shook her head, laughing silently. Kaylee's eyes widened.

"That ain't what you're worried on."

Surprise only showed in Kaylee's face, but she was convinced to earn and keep River's trust. River knew everybody was excited to see her growing anew. Everybody thought you needed sex to heal. River didn't know what she thought. It was refreshing.

"Wait it out," Kaylee advised, after a long moment. "Cap'n's right sexy when he doesn't mean it, but he can do things he shouldn't. Not to _hurt_ nobody, but --"

"No self-control," River whispered.

Kaylee nodded.

"You're wrong," said River. "You're wrong about Saffron. You're wrong about 'Nara."

Kaylee looked confused. "Don't think on the dreams, River," she said. "I ain't gonna say to you what I wouldn't like to hear, but if anything's gonna happen it's gonna happen out loud. In real life."

River smiled at her only ally. Kaylee was thinking _anything goes, as long as the turbine blades keep spinning_. Mal was thinking _keep her flying, and everything else will be dealt with soon enough_.  
The next time Mal found her asleep, she was in the secondary pilot's seat, curled up with her knees on the chair and her head resting between them, lolling over a bit. Mal smiled, but didn't know it, and sat in his chair across the cockpit. He wondered if her neck was uncomfortable; she looked less fluid than usual. Even her hair splayed out everywhere, over dirty toes and her smushed nose and mouth breathing against the skin over her kneecap.

 _Always gotta have her legs uncovered_ , he mused, _always gotta be ready to dance_. She fought like a dance, and standing there with the deadliest of weapons she'd looked like an angel in a song. Reavers. Mal flinched. His Browncoats stayed on the battlefield where they lay, but the poor bastards in the airfight outside Mr. Universe's moon -- they were obliterated. They were nowhere. It was all up to him. The nineteen hundred he'd left behind, death seemed to follow him and them and possibly his every endeavour would only succeed on the backs of thousands of dead or dying, so what was the good of it, in the end --

"You're dreaming, Mal," she whispered. In his dream her face was as large as the planets surrounding it, and she was smiling -- holding something. Jayne's gun. Vera. She was wearing Inara's red sari -- was she Inara? No, she was River -- had to be --

"Mal," she said, more loudly, and he jerked awake. She was in her own blue dress, her own hefty combat boots, her own dark and sorrowful eyes.

"You were dreaming," she told him.

"Yeah, I, uhh --" He reached a hand to his face and found spittle coming out of the left side of his mouth. Shiny. An intimidating goddesslike warrior and visionary had now seen her Captain drooling like a babe on the floor of his own cockpit. "I did dream, a bit. Nothin' interesting though."

She grinned.

"Were there monkeys?"

"You know, _bâobèi_ , it's getting pretty worrisome you knowing everything I've ever thought or said," he told her, wincing and stretching up to sitting.

She giggled. They were all seeing a lot more of her teeth these days, a smile here and there; it was encouraging. _Mei li de_ ; face like hers, he thought, she was pretty much born to it. It was just a whisper at the back of his mind, before the conjures turned into words.

"You know what I say, too, Captain," she answered. "You know how I think. Did you really mean to kill me?"

It took a minute for these last words to register with Mal.

" _What?_ You -- when?"

Her smile had changed to a grim one. "Bullet to her," she remarked. "It's crossed my mind."

He looked at her in horror, but Zoe's silhouette came behind them, and he could say nothing.

"Sir," she told him, deadpan, ignoring his sprawl on the floor or the girl with the probing look on her face, "we got wave from someone else wanting the protein bars. It's in the shuttle. They can pay us in cash now."

Mal couldn't tell whether River was laughing or crying. Her face had never looked like that before. Is _that_ what Jayne had said? _To her, it's what I said._

"Sir."

"The bumblebees," shrieked River. "They used to make her so angry." She looked at Mal. "You gave me a fright."

"What's going on?" Simon demanded, appearing, shirt untucked, stiff again and cold to everyone but his sister. He reached out his hands to hold her face. "River, do you need another --"

"Crazy," she screamed. "They think I am but you all are. He doesn't stop killing, you know that. They never do." Her eyes grew cold. " _Wo hen si ni le, chu sheng xai jiao de chou san ba!_ "

Simon held her, and she quieted, reducing her voice to a mutter. "What I tell them about each other is true. In an inviscid flow you can never have drag, won't get anywhere without turbulence. There's a boundary layer in between that doesn't go away. Can't fully model a situation without all the factors ... and it's not just math that makes it fly, it's me, but I ...."

She was shaking too hard to finish. Simon swiftly nabbed a needle from his cargo pocket, and River shrank from him, wild-eyed again, screaming more curse words.

Zoe had given Mal an arm up, and they stood in the hall.

"Mal," urged Zoe. He could tell she had an inkling of what had set River off, but wasn't saying anything until the action was over. "The job."

"Enough to go around," answered Mal, dazed but half-lucid. "We'll give 'em half. Meet us planetside, the usual."

His second nodded, and left. Just outside of Mal's periphery, River clung to her brother, spewing a lot of nonsense that Mal suspected mostly amounted to a few simple concepts. The people you trust always let you down. The people you love always misinterpret you. When you want something most is exactly when you can't have it.

 _I can relate_ , he thought. _Little albatross has got to learn about life at some point._

But something still niggled at the back of his mind: the fact that, whatever else she was, River was older and wiser than all of them combined. The fact that he knew exactly what she was talking about. The fact that he had told someone in her clairvoyant range that he'd thought of killing her. That even though he'd told himself his remark was just to curry loyalty from Jayne, if she had read it, didn't that mean he was _thinking_ it in earnest?

And Simon. Mal cringed. The people River had loved -- one of them would never let her down. Just an instant ago he'd been thinking she was pretty; she smiled, and that was all due to her brother breaking his ass to get her safe again. More than a few nights Mal had imagined he was a small part of that, Maidenhead notwithstanding, but now ...

Now he saw how much River couldn't afford to depend on him. Feared him, couldn't trust him--couldn't love him.

 _I'd only do her wrong._


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning found them touching down on Lilac, ready to transfer their goods for cashy money. River seemed a good deal less riled than she had been yesterday -- had put it to the back of her mind, Mal conjured, had stowed it away as one of those not-real things. She refused to be distracted when there was work to be done, and he could respect that. He could respect a lot of actions at this point, unless they were his own.

"Just set her down gently as you can," he told his co-pilot, giving her a quick smile before he turned back to his own controls. "Don't have to get it perfect on the first try. Everyone here knows you've got us all beat with regards to talent."

"Useless flattery, Captain," she told him coolly. "Turn them over. I'll be fine."

No more smiles. Mal set his jaw in a hard line as he flipped the switch that turned over all maneuverability to her. He misliked the idea of staying to watch her land his ship, as something that usually made him feel nicely calm now gave him a far-too-exciting jerk in the pit of his stomach, but there was the slightest chance she'd bump it around, and he had to be here to give her whatever instruction he had. He was ill-equipped to tutor her, but it happened that nitpicking her every move was a silly and enjoyable ritual for the both of them -- another quiet routine that had been replaced lately by an unsettling eagerness on Mal's part.

Not today, though. Mal didn't feel up to it. _Zhe shi ge pi gu shi diao han phi shi de tian,_ he told himself. _I'll be glad when this job is over._

A jolt. "River?"

"Sorry," she said quickly, flushing. After another jolt: " _Zhen yao ming!_ "

"Flick 'em back," Mal offered, sitting back up. "I'll take care of it. It's only your first time."

River's eyes narrowed. "It's only a hiccup," she announced. "Grav boot is tricksome. Mind's too many places. Stretched thin. We'll be all right."

He opened his mouth -- maybe to tell her not to kill 'em all, or let pride take over -- but then thought better of it. Telling River to be careful with _Serenity_ , when he knew full well she loved the ship like her own self, seemed like an easy way to get a faceful of girl fist.

Minutes later, they were on the ground, and River'd had no further such hiccups.

"Nice work, little albatross," he told her, and chanced a smile. She grinned back, pleased with her final performance, and forgetting her icy attitude.

"Let's go find us some money," he suggested as they both got up. Mal was suddenly optimistic. Time was he'd have thrown an arm 'round her shoulders as they headed down the stairs, but when his hand jumped out he put it safely in his pocket. No use getting her upset again. No telling what would set her off.

"Are we doing guns today?" she asked as they passed through the kitchen. She snuck a mischievous glance toward the counter. "Concealed knives?"

"Both, _tien cai_ ," he answered with a returning smile, "but if Jayne asks, neither."

"Paranoia killed the cat," she reminded him, eyes gentle.

"Everyone's paranoid here," he returned, before he realized she wasn't trying to challenge him. Less defensively, he added, "Slight woman like you, won't nobody bother if you've got a piece or two. Jayne makes people nervous just standin'."

"Nervous is useful," she told him, and under her breath she whispered, " _dead cat_ ," but Mal didn't hear her and she forced the images in her brain to stop so she could accept his command.

"Zoe comin' too?" Jayne asked as he joined them at the stairs. "She's been mighty tweaked lately on account of -- "

"And she'll be more tweaked sittin' in her bunk with naught to do," Mal finished. "She's coming."

"Someone oughta stay with the ship, Mal," Jayne pointed out, loyalty less on his mind than power. "We all go, that leaves only Kaylee and the Doc. And they ain't exactly set on keepin' a lookout, if you take -- "

Zoe cut in as they reached the cargo bay. She had been stacking the crates methodically on the mule.

"I'll do it, sir," she said simply. "My gun needs looking at anyway."

Mal just looked at her. They spoke volumes with their eyes, but their mouths had nothing to say. River, listening carefully, had the breath knocked out of her as surely as if she'd been clipped in the stomach. Mal loved Zoe, needed her, and knew her. For a moment they all stood there, transfixed by the dark world of Zoe's isolation.

Except, of course, for Jayne.

"Whatever we do, we better get a ruttin' move-on," he growled. "Dirty Lyle ain't partial to waitin', if I remember."

 

It was about a twenty-minute ride to the trop point they'd arranged with their disreputable men, who were already there. They seemed to have found the only section of Lilac that wasn't lush rainforest. This rested more easily with Mal, as no cover meant no ambushes. River, however, felt differently.

"Every planet looks the gorram same," she heard herself whisper as they dismounted the mule. "We've missed the quetzals and the ferns await us."

By the time Mal realized she was speaking, they had reached spitting distance. Dirty Lyle, surrounded by twelve goons, held up a hand to stop them.

"That's about far enough, Captain Reynolds."

"And that's an awful lot of backup for an old supplier," Mal noted.

Lyle's young, arrogant face lit up.

"Yeah, well, the last _supply_ you provided to us got a little spoiled," he said. "Some grey fuzziness all over half the bars. Caused a few families a peck of trouble and robbed us, to boot."

Mal's expression hadn't changed.

"It wasn't our intention to pass along any disease," he replied. "I get a crate, I ship the crate. Don't look too close at what's inside. Or would you have dealt in opened goods?"

"Thing is," Lyle continued as if he hadn't spoken, "most of our folk got a mind to take our losses out of your people. All in fairness, see."

"No need to be doin' that, seein' as I'm prepared to give you a handy little discount on your food today."

Jayne broke in, hand on concealed pistol. "And how do we know you ain't just spewin' a falsehood to cheat us out of what's ours?"

Lyle smiled, and in a flash Mal was shot in the belly, Jayne had killed the man who shot Mal and gotten a leg wound to pay for it, and the nine who weren't dealing with him had pinned River down, holding her at barrel's end.

 _Mal_ , she gasped, stuck in her own world, flailing mentally at the gaping wound she could feel in a chest -- her chest -- _his_ chest, smelling the blood everywhere and dreading the switch she knew she'd have to make, from girl to machine.

"So you're the Alliance's _yaoguài_!" Dirty Lyle grinned. River's vision, skewered by pain, couldn't detect him, but he was there. "Don't look like much to me," he continued, "but apparently you're a danger. Still, I'm sure your captain knows those safewords we can use to make you nice and biddable."

 _Mal_ , and a gun blast went off by her head as the ground collapsed beneath them and they fell into a cavern in the earth, covered by powdery soil. River sank into awareness.

With awareness came clarity and grace. Pushing up to a crouch, River sent a low spinning kick to fell anyone who had managed to stay upright during the collapse. They had tumbled into a cavern eight point five feet below ground. River knew instantly -- there were seven. The one just to her left kept his gun on his thigh.

Holding the weapon, River wound up like a spring, kicking into a high leap that landed her on stable dirt, facing the two remaining men who were running toward _Serenity_.

"Duck," she murmured, and shot the first one.

The second. "Duck."

One bullet left, and she turned back to the scene of the trade.

"Goose," she announced, smiling -- but by the time her eyes met Lyle, he was slumping to the ground with Mal's angriest stare following him.

"How many times am I gonna have to fight through these things?" Mal muttered gruffly, his left hand clinging to his stomach. He turned to Jayne, who was surrounded by fallen bodies, but who also could barely stand and had a fresh shoulder wound.

" _Cào gôushî bùrú chûnrén_ ," he said through clenched teeth. "I got no use for you hurlin' accusations in the midst of very delicate business dealings. We can't ever come back to this world again 'cause you're a moron."

"It's coincidental," River called from a few feet away, bloody but unarmed, her gun lowered. "Would have shot you anyway."

"Little _feng le nu ren_ 's right on that score," Jayne added quickly. "I can handle myself fine negotiatin'."

Mal ignored him. "River?"

"It's me they wanted," she told him wispily, and stared off into the distance.


	4. Chapter 4

River came to visit him when Simon wasn't there. Jayne was already walking, and Mal had healed enough that all he needed was rest. Simon had pointedly advised that he not try to leave the infirmary for another three days. Simon, River thought, was a genius. Simon had brought her to Serenity.

"River?" Mal asked fuzzily. "You learnin' doctorin'? 'Cause I'm not overly willin' to be a test patient."

"Shh, Captain," she giggled. "Simon's with Kaylee. You'll be fine."

He nodded, and she looked down at him for a moment, still smiling.

"Were you dreaming?" she questioned.

"River," he sighed, "there's somethin' you got to understand. You're the only reason we made it out alive in that trade back there."

"You're thinking of Early and the golden retriever," she said, more serious now.

"I'm thinking of everything," he replied firmly.

"It's a disguised wimp, Captain," she answered, shaking her head. "You're forgetting the familiar."

His look was blank and a mite annoyed.

"There wouldn't be an Early or a Lyle without me," she explained. "It's like the room."

Mal's eyes commanded her to believe. "The Earlys and the Lyles," he responded, "make trouble 'cause I don't want to give you up. Now, you endin' that trouble's what makes it worthwhile."

She looked away, unconvinced.

"I'm gonna tell you this straight out, 'cause I've made mistakes before not tellin' a person when she's needed."

River looked back at him, right into his eyes.

"I need you," he told her.

The stare grew harder.

"I need you on my crew," he clarified. "I don't think you're crazy and I _do_ think you're valuable."

River wanted to crawl on top of him and feel his arms wrap around her as they did so many other women -- Kaylee, Nandi, even once Inara. She wanted his companionship, his respect, his love -- but she didn't touch him, and Mal had more to say.

"I know you saw something 'fore we left the ship," he remarked, the color in his face gradually returning. "You knew what was coming."

River looked like she was about to cry. "I didn't --"

" _I ain't blamin' you,_ " he reassured her, managing to control the conversation even from a sickbed. "Weren't none of this ugly business your fault and I'd dump a fellow out the airlock for sayin' so.

"I'm sayin' next time you see a thing, you tell me. You don't whisper it to yourself -- you say it out loud. You got more right than anybody to tell me what you're thinking and I need to know it. _Dong ma, bâobèi?_ "

River's face was calm again, and she regarded him with her arms propped up on the wall counter.

" _Dong ma, lîng duì,_ " she answered. She stayed with him until he fell asleep.

 

Mal had thought it was a good idea when he entered the room. Shows what being newly healed and chipper will do to a man.

"Sorry to disturb, Doc," he'd said smoothly. "Wanted to let you know I'm sleepin' fine with all those drugs you gave me, so I'd say we're about done with the healing process."

Simon nodded, smiling in the slight, terse way that was all he knew. Then Mal he segued right into the point: Had a lot of dangerous missions in the past and future, and though he misliked doin' shady odd jobs, as long as they needed to eat he'd have to take 'em --

"Captain." Simon held out a hand to stop him, and Mal looked up from the floor.

"I know all this," continued Simon. "Why exactly do I need to be reminded?"

Interrupted halfway through a good speech, Mal drew his eyebrows together.

"Just thought I needed to make sure we weren't gonna have a problem, what with me takin' your sister along planetside more often than not."

"Well, I can't say it's escaped my notice that every time you, Jayne, and Zoe come back bruised and battered River is completely unharmed," Simon quipped, perfectly deadpan but with a bit of amused pride in his tone. Mal simply shrugged, accepting the dig.

"But I also can't say," Simon began again, "that I enjoy the extra worry." Mal opened his mouth, but Simon ignored him and barreled through. " _If_ it ever becomes something she doesn't want to do, no one on this boat will force her to do it, and I won't have you treating her as your mercenary or secret weapon."

"Might try lettin' her speak for herself," Mal suggested, the corner of his mouth twitching. "She's pretty good at it."

" _Right now_ River wants to protect you --"

" _Protect_ m --"

"She wants to be a pilot and a full crew member of Serenity. But she hasn't signed her soul to you for eternity and her life is not yours."

"Never conjured it was."

"If anything bad happens to her I will kill you."

Simon stood absolutely still for a moment, staring down a man who had previously spurned any such challenge.

"Doc, anything bad happens to her and I'll be glad to let you do it," Mal said finally, surprised to hear himself sound so complacent with fate.

"Good," Simon returned, taking Mal's statement as light but damning humor. "I'll hold you to that."

It was dawning on Mal that what he'd just told Simon was the truth.

"Since Miranda," he said softly, hand on the doorjamb as he turned to go, "I think lookin' after your sister's the only worthwhile thing I do."

The low pound of his soldier's boots followed him for a long time after he left the doctor's quarters.

"Son of a _bitch_ ," Simon snapped, as he realized the full meaning of what he'd just agreed to.

 

Cleaning out the cargo bay was a good way to shove unwanted thoughts from his mind, and that was something Mal sorely needed after his recent chaos. It didn't work too well for the first hour; though seven of the nine hidden compartments were now emptied and properly rigged with ostensible proper-looking luggage, the captain's mind still lingered on his problems. Would there be more coming after River, looking to harness her abilities for their own uses? Would the Alliance ever break their current hiatus on aggression? Was River still convinced he'd fly off the handle and kill her if she said or did the wrong thing?

It rattled him, the way the woman tiptoed around him in conversation, looked crushed every time he showed displeasure. Nearing nineteen, or maybe already there for all Mal knew, with hundreds of kills under her belt, and yet River depended on the approval of a burnt-out, crabby veteran like himself. It was the kind of loyalty that used to make Mal happy, and now just made him sick.

Killing didn't make a woman older; Mal knew that, and the war had taken twenty years of his life only in theory. River was still a girl in little ways, and he had only just ceased to become a boy -- but justifiable though her devotion was, it didn't feel right. When Mal was her age he'd still had dreams of grandeur and honor and joy, but River already saw the world for what it was and had learned to live in it. He didn't _deserve_ her allegiance; it was as he wiped broken geisha doll heads out of the sixth compartment that he formed that revelation.

He had it anyway, though. He was her captain as much as he was Zoe's -- and far more than he was Jayne's. It took him most of the seventh compartment to puzzle that, and he still hadn't made any progress when he discovered a small letter-sized green bag.

Mal looked around guiltily, as though he was being watched. Serenity seemed to mock him for having cargo that Mal didn't recognize or remember. How had something passed onto his ship without his knowledge?

As he turned it over and over in his hands to search for some kind of identification (it wasn't there), a thick sheaf of papers came tumbling out, disturbing themselves all over the grimy floor. They were academic papers, the likes of which had never before been seen this far from the Core -- and here they were stowed away with a man who made his living with a gun and his wits.

Mal's fingers danced silently across the pages in wonder. He was smarter than most who lived on the outer rims, but these snippets of knowledge were beyond him or anyone he'd known. _Quantum theory of optical coherence,_ he read. _Observation of a neutrino burst from near-Osiris supernovas. Finite-particle achivement of the Bose-Einstein condensate in alkali atoms. Low-energy phenomena in cosmic rays._

"I know what you're thinking," came Simon's voice from the top of the stairs.

Mal's face hadn't looked like that since Ma Reynolds had caught him in the barn fumbling with the milk girl.

"Whu – I was –"

Simon smiled, and headed down to join him. "What in the name of all that's holy is asymptotic freedom?"

Mal looked down again. "Something like that, yeah."

For effect, Simon stood over him.

"That bag," he revealed, "is mine. It was inside my other box when I brought River on board, but I thought I'd lost it, or someone had stolen it. It's most of what River was working on in her last year at Jian Ed -- the university she studied at before the academy." For good measure, he added, " _I_ don't even understand her thesis."

"Oh," Mal answered. He cast a glance at the flurry of white sheets around him.

"Physicists are a little pretentious," Simon explained. "They insist on working with printers and typesets when a cortex directory would do."

Mal nodded. "Makes sense," he said. "Gives 'em a way to be better'n everyone else."

"River was like an adult," Simon told him, not looking his way or watching his eyes. "Even when she was fourteen. She saw right through it all. She knew graduate students -- mostly students in their 20's -- better than they knew themselves. She could tell right away who was jealous of her, what their plans were for their lives, which professors to avoid. She --" Simon stopped, overcome.

"That girl she was," Simon finished finally, "is still in there."

Mal just listened. He was beginning to see where this was leading.

"I wonder if anyone could tell what _she_ wanted, back then," Simon mused aloud.

Certainly not a poor, grumpy bastard from a planet with more cows than people. Mal got the message. He chose to ignore it anyway, for the moment.

Behind the doorway of Inara's old shuttle, where River had been listening to the conversation all along, the girl-who-was smiled.

"Captain Tightpants is almost as cute as Heisenberg," she whispered. "Maybe cuter."


	5. Chapter 5

He found her in the cargo bay, standing on top of a box with a Chinese yo-yo.

"Kaylee bought it for me," she explained even before he started down the stairs. He nodded, forgetting she couldn't see him yet, knowing she would understand.

As he approached her he found himself mesmerized by the hourglass-shaped piece of wood, balanced in a loop of string. Her hands danced in perfect rhythm, and her eyes were wide and fixed on the yo-yo. She twisted back the string if it fell forward, and forward if it fell back, keeping it evenly spinning. When it finally began to hum through its holes, her whole face lit up, and she whirled it even faster, the pitch of the noise rising almost imperceptibly. Mal had once been this good, as a ten-year-old, but he had always let it fall, and run off to do something else.

Not River. She let the tone ring out, and gradually slowed down the spin, letting her right hand whip less and less frequently until the yo-yo was moving gently enough for her to set on top of the box without making a sound.

River stepped down noiselessly, staring at Mal with her steady eyes. He reached his hands up for hers, and though he knew she didn't need them she grabbed them anyway.

"And so slippers of iron were prepared and heated until they were red-hot, and the Queen was forced to dance in them until she dropped dead," River told Mal. She was so solemn that he didn't dare embrace her, but every muscle in his body itched to.

It didn't register at first that she was talking nonsense, but once it did Mal was frightened. Her sense of whimsy didn't usually bother him, but the last time she had spoken _shen mi_ was because he had hurt her. _You betrayed her and you couldn't love her couldn't love her_ shot through his mind, and he swallowed, as if that would keep it all back -- wanted so badly to be worthy of her.

He dropped her hands, and found his voice. "River -- ah -- there's somethin' I've been meaning to say," he began, "just so's you know."

She looked up at him curiously. Once he spoke, she seemed lucid enough.

"I'd never," he said loudly, and corrected himself -- too strong. "I'd never hurt you. I ain't never planned on hurting you. Even if you --" He cleared his throat again. "It's crossed my mind, but not in a killin' way," he finished, "an' I'd never do it."

"Thanks, Captain," she told him, smiling, sashaying in place a little bit with her hands twined behind her back. "But I understand. I'm a weapon. No touching."

 _No, there_ is _touching,_ lots _of touching,_ and his hands and arms rushed forward so fast that he plugged them behind his back so that they couldn't move.

"Talked to Simon," she said, looking at the floor. "Said you're dangerous. Just makes you seem softer." She smiled up at him again, in that beguiling way. If he hadn't just seen it he could have sworn she didn't have a weakness.

"Your brother might have a point there, little one --"

"I'm _not_ little and I'm _not_ a one," River shot back. Mal almost backed away from her; he reckoned he'd been dead right when he told Simon she was gettin' good at speaking for herself.

"River, do you --" he began, not sure what he wanted to say. "Because I --"

He couldn't say anything, so he just stared at her, and she looked as confused as he did by what was in his mind. River's face was scrunched into a frown, but the rest of her body was taut, braced to spring. Did she ever relax? Mal found himself fighting off more urges, old visions and familiar dreams coming back: he wanted to smooth her hair, tell her stories, threaten to kill men for looking at her, and Mal was sick of fighting himself when he loved a woman and sick of holding all his happiness inside where it festered and did nobody any kind of good.

"I'm not reading, Captain," she said finally, her face now clear. Her eyes were impassive, and she was beautiful, Mal thought; they were in the cargo bay and she was beautiful, his ship was called Serenity and she was beautiful, something terrible had happened so many times but they had survived and she was beautiful, and she was beautiful, and she hadn't intended it or noticed it but a little wavy strand of dark and gorgeous hair had slipped loose and now it hung across her face, kissing her cheek; her fingers looked skilled and sexy like they always had, and everything about her glowed because he had snapped and given up and was now allowing himself to see.

"I can control myself. A little. I'm not reading," she repeated. Her eyes were looking straight at him, and he could face right back into them with his own. The last time it had been this electric one of his eyes was bleeding red and he was gorram sure he was gonna have to watch her get slaughtered by some _niao shi de du gui_ Feds.

"I want you to tell me what you see," she continued in almost a whisper -- it was the first time she had showed that she was nervous, but Mal already knew.

"I think -- I --"

She waited.

"River, I sure as hell don't want to offer you anything you can't use, but I'm -- if you ever want to -- I could be with you," and finally it was out.

River Tam smiled at him, looking so much like the girl who had sat in her fancy Core university library studying physics papers, and at the same time the warrior with an empty room who wore borrowed clothes and was only happy when her feet were as grubby as a factory worker on Canton. She was the woman who had kept Mal and his crew alive and never questioned him, not once, always doing exactly what he needed even before he knew he needed it.

At this moment, she stood on his boots with her toes, and arched up her face until she fit perfectly below him, until it was stupid not to kiss her. Their mouths clung to each other and his arms crushed her lithe body into his weathered one, the sweetness overcoming them, their breath mingling into one relieved sigh. Mal was all at once more afraid than he'd ever been of anything or anyone, but he wanted to dance and laugh and he was pretty gorram sure he wouldn't even need booze to do it. He held her desperately, carefully, as if she might break; his every protective instict ballooned into one when he felt her against him and realized that this was the one serenity he needed to keep forever.

"Mal," she crooned, "Mal," and he felt a calm he hadn't sensed since the last time he'd kissed his cross. This woman was burying her face in his shirt, grabbing his suspenders; this woman was _his_ ; this woman was nuzzling his neck and using her _tongue_ all of a sudden and for the first time in seven years his mind screamed _God, God, God, what have I done that brought me this, what have I done._

Even River forgot that someone else might come, but God wouldn't abandon them that quickly. No one found them, and when they broke apart it was with much softening of kisses and whispered promises. Their hands touched. Nothing was wrong. They were co-pilots of a ship they loved and right there amid her cold steel gratings they had lapped each other up and completed the circle that began the day they met.

 _I'll do it, darlin'. This time I'll do it right. This time I ain't gonna fail._

It was a belief Mal was willing to die for.


	6. Chapter 6

Mal appeared on the bridge to find Zoe sitting at the backup controls -- River's usual seat -- piloting them into atmo.

"Couldn't find you, sir," she said smoothly, giving him a bit of a smile. Mal wondered if she'd checked the cargo bay, but Zoe was smiling, and he wasn't about to question it.

"I was, uh -- good, we need to be checking in to Persephone about now," he finished.

"Badger ain't like to be very happy with us right now," she reminded him.

"Why? T'ain't our fault his other buyer died, and when he did we found another one, like the enterprising shipping crew we are. Not to mention we took all the cash Lyle had on him -- which admittedly wasn't much as he wasn't planning to pay us -- but Badger'll have his cut. I just want to make it as low as possible."

Zoe nodded, satisfied. When Mal took the wheel she didn't fade into her room, but instead stayed in her seat and watched him. Mal found himself wishing she was River, and then hated himself for not being happier that she was so obviously on the mend.

"Firefly transport Serenity, requesting docking permission," he spoke into the small recorder on the console, glancing over at Zoe. He was very soon greeted, however, with the face of Lieutenant Womack, who had apparently earned himself a hefty promotion.

"Malcolm Reynolds," Womack announced, grinning. "Was wondering when you'd be stopping by. Yep, they made me Chief Inspector of this little port. So why don't you just coast on in?"

Mal punched out the transmission with his thumb, and gave Zoe a deadly look, which she returned. They both knew exactly how many ground-to-air missiles were trained on them at this very moment.

Mal set a course for docking.

 

When the ship's giant doors opened, Womack was right there, with a veritable squadron of brutes behind him.

"You know what I heard?" he asked Mal, grinning. Mal, arms folded, was standing there with Zoe and Jayne on either side. The rest of his crew were hidden in their bunks; there was no need for them to be out to witness this. It'd only scare little Kaylee and set off little River.

Mal waited for Womack to continue, a sparkle in his eyes that said he wouldn't go out without a fight, and most probably wouldn't go out at all. They didn't have anything illegal on board at the moment.

"I heard you got a special package for me."

Mal smiled.

"Seems to me," Mal returned, "you got a notion this boat carries any kind of special box you want. 'S not quite that handy, you know."

"Don't play games with me, you worthless _niao shi de du gui,_ " came Womack's sneer. "You've been breaking the law ever since you were born and you honestly think you're going to walk away from this? I have jurisdiction here and that means I do whatever the _cho ji bai_ I want. I don't mind killin' you."

"Good," answered Mal. "I don't mind killin' you either." He was paralyzed, for all his strong words: there were too many of them, and he made no move for his gun.

His hand had trouble staying in place, however, when he saw Badger emerge from behind the throng with his own thugs.

"You've got a prisoner on board," Womack told him. "Allied Enforcement wants her back."

"Allied Enforcement's been havin' some trouble of late, as I hear," said Mal. "I don't reckon you're gonna to have control over non-Core planets for much longer."

"Yeh, but we'll still have our package," Badger cut in. Mal couldn't help flaring his nostrils, his eyes burning. _Wang ba dan de biao zi_ if they saw. They couldn't take this. Not her.

Still smarting from the memory of his insulted hat, Jayne spoke up. "What's a _pi shi tou_ like you doin' meddlin' with the Alliance?" he asked, looking at Badger with a fierce and narrowed glare. Mal, for once, didn't move to shut him up; Jayne had asked the pertinent question, and he wasn't willing to be beaten so quickly either. He could buy them time.

"Told you I liked her," Badger replied, grinning. "None of you seemed to believe I'd be back for her. Well, _now_ \-- she's just irresistible, innit?"

"Alliance won't let you keep her," Jayne scoffed. Mal knew it too. If only Badger would believe it they'd have an extra seven hands on their side.

"Yes, we will," Womack reassured the company. "Now how'sabout we start killing these assholes before dinnertime?"

"Bad idea," called a girl from the top of the catwalk, and every eye flicked to her except Mal's. He knew exactly what she looked like already: long, swirling hair, a blue dress with more battle scars than his right leg, tall boots, naked fingers, huge and perceptive eyes. He wanted to have a plan but his mind wouldn't work; he was seized with the desire not to look, never to look again, because women, when he cared about them, were always in more danger than he could handle.

"What did you say, little _yaoguài_?" Womack responded, not missing a beat, and to the gunhands behind him he said, "Fire."

River dove off the catwalk and onto the ground behind Serenity's first three warriors. None of the bullets had touched her.

"Said 'bad idea,'" she told him, grinning. "Said to get off our ship."

Mal didn't know if by "our" she meant his and hers or the whole crew's, but his lack of panic very nearly made him panic again. He believed in her, as, he realized, Simon must have believed in her to let her come out here alone. It was always Simon, and it was always River, and she was going to save his ship again.

"You're not leaving," River told the assembled entourage in a singsong voice, stepping up to stand beside her captain.

"And I won't," said Womack, and before River could get in front of him he had pointed his gun straight for Mal's head. Womack continued: "Either of you makes a single move and I will blow this man's brains all over the floor. I didn't mean to kill you, little weapon, 'cause I need you alive, but I got no problem spilling the blood of every other _zou gou_ on this pathetic piece of _go se_."

"Take a step towards us, love," Badger ordered, and when River did, face curled into a frustrated cry, he laughed. "There's a good girl."

Zoe looked down at herself and then up at Mal; she made her decision and in less than a second the bullet was fired.


	7. Chapter 7

One night, when the memory of blood and gunfire was too strong for anyone to sleep, Mal and Zoe had sat awake in front of a tiny fire of their own behind the bunker. They were silent for long spells, as Mal reached out every so often to swipe a bug; sometimes he told jokes or offered her more beer, but Zoe spoke only when something meaningful occurred to her.

"What do you think o' Wilson?" Mal asked after awhile, giving his favorite woman a wink across the flames and taking a swig of fizzing spirits – stolen, incidentally, from his cache of illicit items that, despite their illegality, really seemed to help morale. "Little clueless, ain't he?" His face turned serious. "I worry about 'im."

Zoe snorted. "He'll be all right. _Feng le_ boy just needs a good dose of reality." She took a gulp of beer; Mal wondered if possibly she was imagining how fearsome that dose might have to be.

"Yeah, true," Mal agreed after a minute, nodding. "Let's hope he gets it in a non-lethal way." He gave her a sidelong mischievous glance. "He's kinda cute, if I were the sorta person who cared about such things."

Zoe raised an eyebrow, but said nothing; she just gazed into the fire, her bronzed face made even more beautiful by the wavering light.

"I been wondering about you for awhile now, Zoe," Mal continued, the ever-present impish grin appearing. "'Cause – and don't shoot me for sayin' so, 'cause I'm sure it's just the beer talkin' – you got quite a lot to go on."

As Zoe turned her head to meet his eyes, Mal found himself paling. Maybe he shouldn't have asked a question like that. Maybe those would be his last words.

His hands itched for his cross, but after a second of intimidation Zoe just smiled.

"Sir," she told him, "with all due respect, you must think I'm the worst kind of desperate."

Mal laughed and raised his bottle to her. Neither spoke of the conversation again, but they always remembered it, and they always smiled when they did.

 

Zoe had staggered over now, about to hit the floor, one hand covering the blood leaking out of her chest and the other gripping her gun more tightly than a lifeline. She still stood in front of Mal, uselessly trying to block the sight of anyone with a weapon. Mal had never seen her in this much pain.

Womack had shot Zoe; Jayne had shot Womack; Mal had shot Badger who thought he had shot Zoe but really had shot nothing; Jayne had also killed two of the toadies before Womack shot him down; Zoe fell to the ground, and Mal shot Womack.

Womack didn't fall. " _Where is she?_ " he screamed. " _Where is your fucking_ hu li jing?"

River materialized in front of him, darting out from behind the cargo bay doors, and she took Womack down and grabbed his weapon. By the time she got to the center of the thugs Mal had already killed most of them, but they all had machine guns, and she just had a pistol and her body. She _swirled_ , moving the way she had when she fought the reavers, and her head was full of violence, and when they were all on the floor she went back to Womack, who was getting up, and she stuck a man's knife into his throat and he gurgled up blood and died.

"GO!" Mal yelled at once, grabbing her arm so roughly she was sure she'd have a bruise and she didn't bruise easily; they were all dead and they had to leave, she had to fly. "Get us _out_ of here!"

She didn't know when she'd started to cry, but she was crying, and she dashed upstairs, choking and coughing at the same time, jumped into the main pilot's seat for the first time and took them off Persephone, out of the world, away as fast as possible.

They hadn't even gotten fuel. They weren't going to make it very far.

 

Simon was still asleep when he heard the knock at his door. Without words, Mal dragged him bodily to the infirmary, and Simon didn't protest, because that look on his face told him that something had happened to River.

When in fact it turned out that something had happened to Zoe, Simon cursed himself silently for his relief and set to work.

"Doctor, you just get it out as quick as possible and let her get back to livin'," Mal told him, crazy-eyed. "I seen her get through bullet wounds but she's gotta be lucid. Her own body works better'n any medicine."

"The best way to help her is if you're quiet," Simon said softly, deft fingers working as fast as they could – fuzziness from sleep was not an option – and Mal wanted to scream at him, slam him against the wall, but he couldn't, because only Simon could save Zoe right now.

Mal couldn't quite appreciate the irony.

"Anyone here gonna see to _me_?" Jayne wanted to know. "I got somethin' powerful big in my leg, and –"

Mal shoved him to silence the man, forcing him to put weight on his leg, and Jayne scowled and made a hissing noise but said nothing. He knew he could wait, somewhere in his conscious mind.

"I can do it," River's voice said as the fragile woman emerged at the doorway. She was looking at Jayne's leg.

"No ruttin' way," he said at once, but his words were lost as Mal tore his eyes from Zoe to glare at River and force her into the hall, far enough away so that Jayne couldn't eavesdrop and Simon couldn't hover.

"What in the _méiyôu mûqin de xiao gôu_ do you think you're doin'?" he said fiercely, imprecations flying out so fast he could barely keep from throwing her against the wall as he had everybody else.

She just looked at him, confused, sorry, and that made him angrier than anything.

" _You saw that coming,_ " he hissed. "I told you to tell me, you saw anything crazy, and Zoe got shot in the belly and you never said a _yu chun_ word. _Qù tamade!_ "

He waited a moment, watching River quiver, and the fact that she was speechless, when so many other things set her off on a stream of curses, confounded Mal too much for him to forgive or trust anything she'd done. She'd let him down; that was just the way of it. He lifted a shaking finger a hair's breadth from her face, giving her his most terrible look; he didn't even know how much he was frightening her, and all he could think was _I hope it's as much as possible_ ; he wouldn't let himself give in to moral reservations, not now. Not with Zoe.

"She dies," he told River, " _you_ die. And I'll enjoy it."

She just stared at him, tears filling her face; but it wasn't those that brought Mal out of his haze – it was the hatred behind them.

He turned on his heel and left, back to stand by Zoe's side.


	8. Chapter 8

When Zoe stabilized, Simon and Mal just sat with their hands on their fists, one on either side of her, waiting. Mal only stared at Zoe, but Simon looked everywhere but; he was thinking too hard, as usual, and he wasn't wondering – though he should have been – what exactly would happen to him if the captain's second didn't make it.

The instant Mal slumped over in exhaustion, mouth distorted by his supporting fist, River's face appeared behind a window, and she whispered her brother's name.

"Not here," she mumbled, a freakish panic in her wet eyes, when her brother tried to pull her into the infirmary to sit down. It was then that Simon noticed that River had kept herself hidden from Mal's point of view, even as he slept; for him, it was like she wasn't there at all. They went to River's bunk, now next to Zoe's in the fore passage with all the other crew quarters.

"What's going on, _mei-mei_?" Simon asked, lowering himself onto her bed. Her room had changed since he'd been here last; she had done more calligraphy, and Chinese characters hung on the wall: _love, honor, war,_ even – he realized with a jolt – _sex._

River settled herself in the crook of his arm, and leaned her damp face into his shoulder.

"Did wrong," she murmured. "Captain thought he would do it first, but it was me. Never failed before. Feels like throwing up and dying."

Simon gathered his sister into his lap, rubbing her back, trying to think of anything that could possibly soothe her. He had no idea what Mal had done, but he wanted to murder him for it. It was as if the past year and a half had meant nothing – in a day, in an hour, in five minutes, Mal had broken every shard of trust they'd ever placed in him. They had to get off Serenity.

"No," River squeaked, her voice not working properly. She was so upset; Simon felt himself going crazy, losing the calm they'd worked so hard to find after Miranda.

"River," he said at last, "what did he _do_? Because you know I never – I never would have told him anything if I thought he'd do something stupid."

River laughed softly through her tears. "He's always stupid," she pointed out. It struck Simon as the sort of thing Kaylee might say, lovingly, and that made him smile – just the smallest bit.

"You're in shock, you know," Simon told her. A woman she may have been, and a strong one, but she still needed her big brother, and that gave him strength. "After what happened – you need to relax, you need a few nights of rest."

"Won't get it," River responded. "Need to fly for Mal. Keep this bird in the air –" to hear her imitating him was torture – "do everything for him."

"You don't have to do anything for him," Simon shot back firmly. "He owes you his life ten times over, and you don't have to work for him. You don’t have to work at all – I've seen to that."

"Saved me, too," River replied, truthfully. "Needs me."

"You're not his scapegoat." Simon was beginning to have an inkling of what was going on. "What did he say to you? From what he told me, it seemed like you were the only reason any of us are still alive."

"He didn't say that," she whispered. "I'm still the albatross. I hear things. I was supposed to tell him."

"River," Simon said, lifting her face up and cupping her cheek, "that's not right. _Dong ma?_ I have been working for the past two years to make sure you don't see or hear anything that disturbs you. I understand mental disorders. There's a biochemical imbalance in your brain and you cannot be expected to control it. You're sick, just as if you had diabetes or – or – or anemia."

"Don't want to be sick," River moaned, burying her face in his shirt, breathing in deeply. He smelled so good – smelled like home.

"I don't want you to be sick either," Simon agreed, rocking her back and forth. "And I don't want anybody to use you when all you're supposed to be doing is getting better. I don't care about Mal. He doesn't deserve you."

River shook her head almost imperceptibly against her brother's chest. Simon didn't notice.

"We'll leave," he told her. "We can –"

"Can't," she said fiercely, her teeth clenched. "Still love him. It's like a song. Want to kill him, want to save him at the same time. Don't know which to do. It hurts, Simon," and she fell into her brother's arms, sobbing, and he knew that by holding her he was promising to help – even if that help meant reuniting her with that _ben tian sheng de yi dui rou_ she called her captain.

It wouldn't really be giving her up. He'd always be standing by in the background, waiting to catch her when she fell. He needed to.

 

Mal was gazing into Zoe's face, but he was seeing Book – or rather, feeling him. That last punch had connected with his jaw, bloodied him, sent him spinning backwards, reeling. At the time Mal had made it all physical, ignored what he'd said.

Right now, he could understand perfectly why Book had left. He was right. It was getting out of hand.

 _I'll enjoy it_ – when Mal thought back to that moment he was afraid he might throw up everything inside him, guts, heart, stomach spilling out onto the floor in a bloody mess, and Mal a shell, soulless, nothing, just a picture. He'd thought, after Miranda, that he'd learned something and regained just a little bit of what he'd been like.

He remembered the night he'd spoken to the Operative; before he went to sleep, he'd whittled the cross out of its enclosure out of the bottom of his boot, dropped it under his pillow, where it had stayed. Mal shuddered to think what God would say now that it turned out he was murdering children. Come to think of it, probably the Devil himself would frown on him.

Mal's hand wiped his face, as lost as he was. Tears that hadn't come in years opened up, floodgates suddenly flung wide, and Mal didn't know what to do because he'd lost everything so quickly, _ZoeRiverBookWash_ , almost an instant after he'd sworn never to fail any of them again. Especially not that one. Especially not the little girl who wasn't a little girl at all, who had woman parts: a spirit, a heart, cold eyes that would never forgive him for turning on her when she needed him the most. It was as if pledging himself to people was an automatic kill order.

He needed more time. He needed to go back in time, to –

"Sir?"

At her side in a moment. Hands on her hands.

"Zoe." He could just barely contain himself, but it was still loud enough to be a yell.

"Sir," she said again, this time smiling. "Doesn't feel too bad. I think I'll make it." Before Mal had time to be hopeful, she coughed up blood, leaning over and it was all out there, and he realized that while he'd been crying she had soaked through another blanket. Where the hell was Simon?

"You just lie back," he told her, and again, uselessly; "just lie back, Doc'll be here any second." He'd kill Simon for this – nope, he'd threatened enough people for one day, and he remembered again.

"He fixed me up," said Zoe; he couldn't think of the last time she'd sounded this fuzzy-headed, and it scared him even more. She just smiled to see his face so torn.

"You know why I did it," Zoe murmured, smiling up at him, the only woman in the world who could be playful with a bullet wound. "Had to."

"Didn't have to," Mal said darkly, and he thought maybe he shouldn't look at her anymore, she was too marvelous, so he gazed at his dull boots. "Not worth savin'."

"No, sir," Zoe agreed, "maybe you're not. But the two of you together is somethin' else entirely."

Mal's eyes shot back to hers. So she had seen them.

"For me," Zoe continued, and then thought better of it: "for Wash," she corrected. "Don't screw it up, sir."

Terrible cold hands clutched at Mal's stomach. It was all over. The final piece in the puzzle, as River might say, or the nail in the coffin; if he thought he had failed them before, it was nothing to what he'd just realized now. His hands fell away from hers; he thought his blood had simply stopped pumping.

"I think I already have, Zoe."

"No," she said, and tried to sit up, and fell back again in a dead faint, her face still contorted with pain.

When Simon came back that was how he found him: the Captain curled over Zoe, holding her against what she couldn't control.


	9. Chapter 9

"Mal," Simon said, and the captain snapped out of it, jerking away from Zoe to face the other man.

"Check her first," he said gruffly, and though Simon's eyes were red-rimmed with fury and exhaustion he did it. It was Zoe.

"She's fine," Simon told him. "Still stable." To Mal's relieved expression, he responded: "Why? You didn't manage to somehow shock _her_ into dementia, too?"

Mal's hands leapt up to throttle him, to throw him against the wall, to shake his shoulders – but he did nothing, and shoved his hands back into his pockets. Simon remained unconvinced by the man's display.

"I remember you telling me," the doctor said slowly, "that if you hurt my sister you'd be glad to let me kill you." Simon's eyes were a cold, steely, unforgiving blue; Mal thought oddly that this must have been exactly the same way the boy had regarded his father when he realized he could no longer trust him.

"So kill me," said Mal, and it wasn't a dare: it was a quiet admission of truth. Simon thought of River – _Can't. Still love him._

"What is going on in here?" asked a trembling voice at the doorway, and the two men faced a teary-eyed Kaylee. This quiet anger between the two men disturbed her more than any fistfighting ever could; her grease-stained cheeks were quickly gathering salt water as well. "Is – is Zoe okay?"

"Zoe's fine," Mal replied at once, putting a hand on her shoulder. Simon glared, and Kaylee removed Mal's hand and took a step back.

"Yes, Zoe's okay," Simon snapped, "which makes it fine that Mal took advantage of my sister's mental illness and verbally abused her."

"What?"

"No, it doesn't," Mal yelled, "it doesn't make it fine, Doc. And she'll kill me herself if she wants but I got to have the chance to make things right with her."

Kaylee had her hand over her mouth in horror, and she was rocking back and forth on her heels.

"Promise me," hissed Simon through his teeth, " _promise_ me you mean all that. Promise me you're not an asshole."

Kaylee's wide eyes shot from one to the other; she didn't know which man to defend.

Mal looked at the floor. "Simon," he admitted, "Miranda. That was all about her. I've – she's part of Serenity."

"Cap'n loves her," Kaylee mumbled at last, still stunned. "Really loves her." Her voice hardened as she glanced back at Mal. " _Don't_ you?"

Without looking up, he nodded.

"I'm not in the habit of threatening people I love," Simon answered evenly. "He said something terrible to her."

Mal nodded again. When he had to reach up to rub the moisture from his eyes, he wished they couldn't see him, but they were there, and that was it.

"But – I –" Kaylee cleared her throat, but her voice was no less thin when she went on. "There's no need for killin'."

"No," said Simon at last. "I don't believe there is."

"Doc," came Mal's now-raspy voice, and he looked up: "Doc, Zoe and I been – to lose her made me –"

Simon waited, arms crossed. Kaylee's expression had returned to her usual one of sympathy, and this time it was her hand on Mal's shoulder. He gave her a strong look, coming back to himself, and faced Simon once more.

"I'm apologizin' to you two, I'll see what happens with River, but I got to be the Captain again," Mal affirmed. "I'll be a better one – that's a promise I can make. But I hope to hell she's still here to see it."

"The only reason we're not already gone," Simon informed him, "is that River won't leave Serenity."

At that moment Mal wanted to go to her so badly he felt his knees buckle. He didn't deserve a thing from that _tian shi._

"Next time you make her this upset," her brother continued, "we're gone, whether she wants it or not. Maybe you expect other women to handle this but she still can't. I won't let you inflict more trauma on her."

Mal nodded, no twinge of a smile returning.

"She's too important," said the Captain, and when they both understood each other Mal walked out and let Kaylee go to Simon with her calming hands.

 

In the cockpit, Mal shut off the engines so that they were floating in space; they were in a pretty empty quadrant, and they didn't need to get anywhere fast unless it was a fuel station. For now, he had to let them drift to the nearest big settlement, riding on momentum. They'd last, he hoped, and it was better to save the remaining juice in case they needed to run from something.

He had underestimated his fatigue, and before he even realized he was on a galley lounge chair he had passed out.

 

River had waited for all the voices to be silent before she crept out on her bare toes: she was hungry, but she wanted to eat alone.

As her foot touched the last step she realized who was sleeping in the corner, but it was too late – the man in question had already straightened up and wiped a hand across the drool by his mouth.

"River."

"Didn't hear you." She felt her face crumple, and she turned away.

"No," and he was behind her in a moment, touching her arm softly now, pulling her back, but she knew she could resist if she wanted to.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. The words were much easier to say than he had imagined, and even easier to hear.

"I didn't see it," she moaned. "I couldn't. For you."

"I know." He tried to hug her from behind, but she turned in his arms.

"River," he said slowly, shaking his head. "You don't want a man like me. I – I failed you."

"You're here, aren't you?" she asked quietly, but she was crying all the same. "It's not fair," she added, tense. "It's not fair that you can take everything and not give any of it back."

"I'm sorry," he said again, pressing his forehead to hers, and he tilted up her chin with his fingers. Her dark eyes were hopeful – _damn Him,_ he thought. _Damn me._

"I forgive you," River told him softly. He stroked her cheek now, lost, wondering how it got to here.

"Why?" he demanded, closing his eyes, holding her neck, hands firm and warm.

"Because I have to," she answered. "You won't go away now. Serenity needs us."

"You weren't even there," he breathed, shaking his head. "Why the loyalty?"

"You believed in me. From wood to flesh to blood. And I like your suspenders."

He looked up to say something, or perhaps to laugh, to relax as he hadn't in years – but their faces were too close together now, and she met him halfway. They kissed and it wasn't like the first time; this time they knew what to expect and had missed each other, so they pressed together urgently, stumbling back into the table –

" _River,_ " he protested, _you can have more than this more than me –_

"You're strong," she insisted –

"Mean and stubborn, more like, and your brother –"

"I need Simon," she agreed, but her hands were still in his hair. "Need you too. Both the engine and the flaps, both the pedals and the drag."

He pulled her to him, and her arms wrapped around him and her cheek in his shirt was more real than anything else. It scared him even more than finding Inara outside of Nandi's room, than Wash breaking in Niska's cell – much, much more.

"I can't handle you," he said finally. What was she expecting?

"You took her when she wanted you, Mal," River murmured against his chest. "You stayed with her always. You broke her once or twice but she's never gone down."

When Mal realized that he'd understood her words perfectly, he let himself touch her long black hair. He smiled.

"Serenity ain't a person," he told his pilot.

"Systems of comparable complexity," she muttered; her comment was muffled against his fabric, and Mal was amazed at how cute he found it.

River wavered back a little to look at him, both of them breathing hard, and smirked suddenly into his eyes.

"You're right," she murmured. "I could do better."

Mal grabbed her hands.

"My bunk," was all he said.


	10. Chapter 10

"Mine," she answered, and danced away, tugging at his arm. Mal followed, his head either too full or too empty; he couldn't hold a thought. River stopped to twirl and kiss his cheek before she climbed down her ladder, and he caught her back and drew her into something deeper, pressing her close. Images swam before his head: River in a spacesuit gliding down to him, River standing unfraid behind blast doors, River sleeping outside his door, River crying in Simon's arms, River falling in the dust with Lyle's men, River watching him in the infirmary, River next to him on the bridge, spinning her yo-yo, kissing him, terrified as he yelled at her --

"No," she said. "Don't think about that."

"I'd never --"

"I know," she interrupted, grinning up at him like a sprite. She was standing on his boots in her bare feet, to make herself taller. "Everyone's asleep," she added, and kissed his neck -- it was soft, light, almost imperceptible, but Mal found his breath catching anyway.

"All the same, _xin gan,_ I'm thinkin' we're better off alone in your bunk."

"We'll have to leave the door open," she told him, "in case someone comes."

He touched her cheek, wanting to question her, but remembered -- her brain had to be hers now.

"Don't worry," she whispered, and slithered down the stairs. Mal could only do the same.

Mal hadn't been in River's room since she moved in, but it was beautiful; she had Chinese characters hung on the walls, and like everything else she did her writing was flawless ( _Inara used to be good at calligraphy; he was never supposed to see it_ ). The thing he liked best was the way she hung all of her clothes on the wall in odd ways -- at first he'd thought it was fine Core sculpture of some sort, but he recognized a shirt of Zoe's and a skirt that Kaylee had once worn. The wall was River's closet, and a fitting one it was.

River's grace touched everything, but Mal also noticed the blank spots on the wall; saw how much of her was bare, how much of her still needed filling in with details.

The young woman herself was curled up on her bed, regarding him; it was the kind of look that would have unnerved Jayne, but Mal had long since learned not to mistake River's intensity for craziness. Staring at him now she was saner than ever, and knowing that this was his doing gave him the confidence to lie beside her.

River kissed the open part at the top of his collar and wriggled up so that their faces were together. Her eyes had little blue stars in them, he realized; she was like the window of Serenity, and no shock there. Sometimes he wondered how true it had been, what she told Early.

"Sweetheart," he asked softly, "how many times did you sleep outside my bunk like that?"

"Three," she answered -- she didn't need to ask his meaning -- and still so happy; not a little girl's happiness anymore, but the light of someone who needed that smallest hope to get through the dark. _Three._

Mal smiled.

"I liked your dreams," she continued, by way of an explanation.

"Did you, now?" Mal hoped for the sake of his own dignity that she'd missed out on some of the finer points. Though he had no memory of what his thoughts had been, he imagined that they were less Captainy than he'd like.

"One was on Shadow," she whispered, hanging back a little to wait for his reaction. She got one: Mal looked down, and shifted almost imperceptibly away from her.

"I'm sorry," she continued. "I didn't mean to see it."

Mal didn't respond -- he figured she could tell what he was thinking. That he shouldn't be here, that this whole _shen jing bing de_ River-kissin' was opening up a can of worms he'd left on the battlefield a long time ago. That he wanted to be here all the same, and even felt he needed it; glancing around at her clothes, her bare walls, her calligraphy, her drawings, her yo-yo, her boots in the corner and the rest plain Serenity -- it made him want to lie back and rest forever, to forget everything that brought him here.

"Mal," she said, and touched his shoulder to pull him back; it was so timid, like she wasn't sure he'd let her, so he brought her closer and massaged her head, kissing her forehead.

"Don't worry, _mei nui,_ " he told her, with the littlest smile. "I ain't goin' anywhere."

He thought better of it, now, beginning to understand her more deeply, and added: "I hope my nightmares don't keep you up. They're ...you were never meant to see them."

River gave him a wry grin. "It's all right," she said, a flicker of the fancy Core girl she'd once been, with confidence and sparkle and an undergraduate physics degree to boot. She hadn't denied it, but Mal knew that his Serenity Valley was one more murderous horror that kept her from being that girl and made her a tortured woman; funny thing was, he couldn't decide which River he loved more, and felt ashamed of himself for needing them both.

" _Bie chu zhao ma fan,_ " River answered, hearing him, and pressed a warm hand to his forehead. "Being silly."

Mal looked down at her, wondering.

"It'll go away," she told him. "Soon enough the memories will go away, and then we can make our own again. Spring cleaning."

Mal grinned, brushing her hair back, kissing her forehead again.

"You are a hopeful one, you are," he confided. "I'll try and make sure everything goes along with your plan."

When River leaned in to kiss his cheek, he blocked her way with his own lips, and she whimpered as he pulled her to him, feeling every part of her close, safe against his body. A light went on inside her, as it always did, and the hesitation vanished; she licked at him and explored him, and there was little she did that Mal didn't like.

Mal had held many a woman, but none so small or limber as she, and even though he knew she could kill him with a thought she still seemed sweeter and more vulnerable than any he'd imagined. It made him burn even more to cradle her to him, to whisper in her ear -- though she'd sense it in her mind before he found the words -- to soothe her with the gentlest kisses he'd never dared to try on women of experience. River demanded nothing from him, but treasured everything he gave. A gift all over again, it was, to have the kind of lovemaking so simple and unselfish that almost no one in the 'verse did it anymore.

By the time they stopped Mal's suspenders were off and his shirt was half-open, and River's skirt, which had crept up to her thighs, burrowed around Mal's waist as she cuddled against him. They lay there for a minute, River catching her breath on Mal's chest, and Mal twirling his fingers through her hair, smelling it and half-hoping she couldn't tell.

"Darlin'?" he asked, when the silence was calm enough for speech.

" _Shuai ge,_ " she mumbled, not missing a beat.

"Mind if I take my boots off?"

She giggled and rolled off him, but as he sat up and leaned over she wound her arms around his stomach, kissed his back and pressed her cheek into him. _"I can't handle you"_ came back to Mal -- he couldn't, not really, not this much love and tenderness all at once --

"Are you still glad?" she whispered in his ear. Mal let himself smile at her voice as he yanked his feet out of his boots.

"Glad 'bout what, little albatross?"

"Glad I didn't die," she answered. "Or that they didn't shoot me. Or I'm your pilot. Or I showed you --"

"Shh," he told her, frowning, turning to take her hands. He kissed her cheek, forehead, and then her lips. "'Course I'm glad."

The young woman leaned into him and they were silent again for a time, Mal's fingers weaving through her hair and River's soft, hot breaths wreaking havoc on his neck. He thought again of everything she'd done and it was enough to convince him he could do it, he could appease Simon, he could impress Zoe, he could please the sweet little genius in his arms and make her safe from sadness for the rest of her life. Mal hadn't felt anything so sentimental since probably his sixth birthday, when his ma wrote him a song and played it on guitar after everyone else was abed, just the two of them in the humble ranch house on dust-filled Shadow.

The thought that his ma, despite everything else in his life, would _adore_ precious River made him smile, and River, attentive to the beat of his heart and the rhythm of his breathing, looked up so she could see the expression on his face. She smiled back and kissed him quickly on the lips; he cradled her head and pulled her close for something more rousing, and she collapsed against him again, this pretty tigress who could kill and laugh and integrate, crumpled by his touch.

"River," he moaned, and that made her bold; she came alive again and wrestled him down, making the kiss harder, faster, frantic; Mal wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her under him. He hadn't reckoned on how easily she'd fit, or how quickly she relaxed into his touch -- it forced him to remember all that happened in the past few days, and how young she was, and to think maybe he should take things a little more slowly than he'd like.

She twisted underneath him for a moment and tangled her hands in his hair, heading for his neck, and Mal wondered exactly how difficult it was going to be to keep his promises to her brother.

River didn't let on that she heard his thoughts, but she breathed heavily into his neck and Mal gave in, thinking in a tangled River-speech of his own: _She came back._


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one goes out to ana_sedai, for encouraging this story long after I was dead to the world, entranced in that madness I call term. Also, you have no idea how much all of your comments on this story have motivated, inspired, and warmed my heart. Thanks, readers. ;)

In Mal's dream River was shoving the throttle forward as far as it could go, and leaning on the yoke until they were in a steep dive; it was the kind of heavyhanded maneuvering his pilot would never have done in real life. Even as he felt his stomach turn and his body float out of his chair in the freefall, he knew: _This is a dream. I must be dreaming._

The captain heard the roar of his engines — Kaylee's engines — behind him, louder, louder. River was saying something to him, but he couldn't make out her words, no matter how close he strained, and the ground was growing ever larger as they plummeted. He recognized trees, a lake, a hill, some forests — open ground, a cattle ranch — _Shadow. Ma._

And when they fell he was in the bedroom again, with light streaming in past the curtains and onto the little wooden trundle bed underneath his mother. Not believing his dream-self, Mal lay for a moment in the quiet, relishing it. It had gone so quickly.

The boy peeked up over the side and sat up a little. There she was, one hand in front of her roughened face and drool coming out of a mouth that would bark orders at him come mornin'. Her wispy light brown hair never looked dirty, but Ma Reynolds could never keep the curls out of it, so she shoved it back with pins and kept it as far out of her face as possible.

It was time for church, then, in his dream, and Mal now sat beside his mother in the pew, holding her hand, his little fingers safe in her long and callused ones. All around him in the little wooden building were portraits of angels in stained glass; the sunlight flowing in was tinted in the colors of tomatoes and onions and peppers.

When the collection box came around, Mal-the-boy dropped in the coin he'd earned from selling corn that week in the market, and his mother gave him an approving smile and a kiss on the head. Her rare moments of fondness came only at church, or when Mal was ill — even his dream-self knew that. He leaned up again, gazing at her, hoping for another kiss, but she was locked now into the pastor's sermon, not hearing or seeing anything else.

Mal, too, flicked his eyes toward the altar, and there she was, some strange goddess of boots and weapons and darkness — of screams. Her eyes were shadowed, but behind the black there was warmth, softness, vulnerability. Even as an eleven-year-old boy in a dream, he wanted her. All she did, this vision of a woman, was look at him.

He needed to cower from her stare, or comfort her — he wasn't sure which. All he knew, in his dream, was that she was too smart, too sad, too strange, too far away for him to reach.

"River," Mal whispered, and shot up in the bed, bolt upright. Awake.

He turned, expecting to see her leaning on one elbow, regarding him with a twitchy little smile and a joke in her eyes — she'd have something crazy and funny to say, he didn't know what — but instead, he saw her still sleeping, and as his gaze turned to her she tossed and started to cry.

"No," she screamed once, "not Simon. Don't take — don't take. Don't take me for him!" Her little body rolled on the bed, crashing into Mal, but that didn't wake her up. She brought a hand up to her face and began to claw at her eyes, as if she wanted to tear them out. "Not Simon, not Simon," she pleaded over and over, her face anguished, her eyelids still shut.

The captain leaned over, took his pilot's hand from her face, shook her gently and said her name, whispered kisses into her ear until she woke up.

"Mal," she said softly when she realized it was him, and her eyelids fluttered open. She was the woman in his dream — the goddess, with River's eyes, River's body, River's quirky looks. There was no humour or light in her face now; she was just a troubled girl.

Just trouble.

She tucked her small face into his shoulder, and Mal kissed the top of her head.

"How often?" he murmured. He brought his hands up to her hair, holding his head like he could control it. Maybe it would calm her.

"Every night," she said. Mal felt his heart sink. "Usually Simon — " She hugged Mal almost imperceptibly, strong but shy. "Sometimes I'm quiet enough that Simon doesn't hear. I told him I'm better. That's why he let me move ... sleeps with Kaylee."

"I know, _baobei,_ " Mal told her, and kissed her forehead again. "Doesn't bother me none. Never been one for sound sleep."

"Sound sleep," River repeated, and she twisted her face up so that their eyes were meeting, leaned in to kiss him, until the ship pitched violently and Mal and River were thrown from the bed onto the floor.

" _What?_ " he screamed. " _Bu hao le!_ "

River sprang into action, skittering up her ladder. He tried to jump over, but the ship gave another jolt and he smashed his right side into the wall.

"River —" he called out, and she stopped, reached over to grab his hand. He steadied himself and grabbed onto the ladder.

"Let me go first," he said. "Could be trouble."

She gave him a sardonic look.

"Nothing yet," she told him.

"Nothing _yet_ —" Mal protested, and the ship gave another lurch, though less extreme. "What in the _tien xiao de_ do you think this is? Looks and smells like trouble to me."

"Trust me," River told him, and opened his door. Chasing after her, Mal caught a glimpse of footsteps, and heard yelling coming from the bridge.

 _First night I've been lyin' with a woman in over a year, and I gotta end the evening like this._

"Sorry, Mal," Jayne called out gaily from the pilot's seat. "Been tryin' to fly."

"Well, why the fuck were you trying to fly?" was Mal's retort.

River glanced down at the mercenary like a disapproving mother, and then turned her eyes to the sky. "Move, please," she demanded, and when Jayne just looked at her she turned back and added, "I _said_ 'please.'"

"Why weren't _you_ flyin', if it needed to be done?" Mal shot at Kaylee, who was standing in the corner with a very tousled Simon. "Didn't no one try to stop him? _Move,_ Jayne."

River listened, head cocked to one side, as Jayne mentally considered disobeying both the Captain and _her_ — and and then she took his seat with a smug smile. The ship quivered slightly as she grabbed the yoke.

"He got here before us," Kaylee returned meekly.

"He said he'd get the hang of it," Simon added. Mal shook his head and turned away, not willing to deal with Simon's unusual tolerance of Jayne at the moment. Seemed the boy didn't have room in his soul to hate two crew members at the same time.

"Why in the hell did you feel the need to fly this late anyway, Jayne? Couldn't sleep? Felt like annoyin' some folk?"

"Hey," Zoe called out, stepping onto the bridge, impeccably dressed, gun out. She dropped her hand when she realized there were only crew members aboard, and the old Zoe would have smiled, a bit sarcastically — instead, she drew her eyebrows together and pursed her lips.

"Any particular reason," she continued, "we're bouncin' about five hours after bedtime?"

"Some of us ain't got natural talent," Jayne pointed out gruffly. "Hafta learn things as we do 'em." He glowered at River, who winked cheerily back.

"Jayne," said Mal warningly.

"All right, all right. There's someone behind us, 'bout seven beats, just off the edge of our signal. I was up here —"

Kaylee sniffed, and then gasped. "Smokin'? On the _bridge_?"

"I was up here," Jayne continued firmly, "an' I heard the proximity beep, so I thought it'd be best to avoid them."

Zoe rolled her eyes and left, muttering — so only Mal could hear — "first night of actual sleep I've had in a good long while." Mal watched her for a moment as she left, but turned quickly back to Jayne.

"Instead you've made us intimately known to them. As terrible pilots who'll likely crash into the next object, stationary or no."

"They must be really confused now," Simon noted, watching how smoothly River's hands controlled their flight. Either it had escaped his notice that Mal appeared on the bridge a hair behind River, or he was desperately trying to avoid the topic for River's sake.

"They're trying to establish a connection," his sister said now, wiping dirt off the camera with her thumb as the screen below it crackled.

Mal bent down beside her and looked into the camera, face grim. Usually he expected travelers to just ignore each other — if these ones wanted to talk, it didn't bode well to his mind.

"Probably just worried about us," Jayne remarked with a grin. Mal didn't even bother glaring his way.

"They seem calm," River said softly, so close to Mal's ear she was almost touching his cheek. "Otherwise I can't tell." Mal nodded, his hands growing slippery on the console — he wasn't sure why.

The screen crackled again, and a dark, weathered face appeared. The woman looked elegant, but not because of her dress — she was simple, elderly, but dignified, and when she spoke there was a no-nonsense air to her words.

"Been lookin' for you for a little while," was her greeting.

"That so," Mal answered.

"Got the order to give you something awhile back. I'm a friend of Derrial Book."

Mal's eyes widened.


End file.
